


Inspect the Goods

by SinSmith



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Isabela (Dragon Age) and Innuendo, Isabela being Isabela (Dragon Age), Minor Fenris/Isabela, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 01:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinSmith/pseuds/SinSmith
Summary: "But really, this had to stop. If only because it was damned contagious. "Bela's flirting with Fenris is driving everyone crazy... particularly Varric. A good friend would help, right?





	Inspect the Goods

**Author's Note:**

> This is very Varric POV, meaning using his language (sometimes vulgar or inappropriate) as best I can. It was fun to write, but deviates from my own writing style quite a bit. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> They don't actually have sex in this chapter, but there may be a followup.

They had been at it for hours. Broody and Rivaini, shooting little thinly veiled quips back and forth at each other. The sexual frustration in the air was tangible, and the pirate was purring like a bitch in heat. But they knew, they all knew, that it wasn’t going to go anywhere; not tonight, anyway, because Hawke had needed Fenris for some late night mission to the Chantry (which promised to be a notably chaste encounter, despite Bela’s teasing to the contrary). It had started early that morning when they’d left for the coast, hunting a group of bandits or another, and Hawke had kindly brought him, Broody, and Rivaini along. Hawke, at least, had the comfort of blonde sparky apostate with a notoriously talented tongue to soothe that ache later that night.

Varric, on the other hand, was considering resorting to murder. 

“We have a plan laid out for tonight-”

“I could stand to be laid out.”

“Trust me, Rivaini, we know. We all know.”

Isabela didn’t even have the decency to make a joke about it, just sighed wistfully. Varric wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d had a prow cutting her waves, so to speak, but clearly it had been too long. And until Broody coughed it up (he was going to, Varric would, and had, bet money on that fact) maybe Bela was taking a Vow of Chastity and resisting her basal nature for the thrill of the hunt.

Lucky Fenris. Didn’t bode well for the rest of the motley crew, however, because it meant dealing with a pirate’s wandering hands and nearly constant innuendo. Bela was a peach, Varric reminded himself, and she delighted him at the worst of times…

But really, this had to stop. If only because it was damned contagious. You couldn’t spend an hour with her, her jokes and touches and bending over counters like some Fade Ghost was having it’s way with her, without feeling something stirring. She was a beautiful woman, and when she sat in his lap at night at The Hanged Man and squirmed… maker, but it was distracting. 

He was almost glad to watch Fenris and Hawke leave; if only because, he prayed, without her current conquest in line of sight, maybe the Wolf of the Eastern Seas would… take a cold swim and settle down, a little. 

He glanced over, from their table at The Hanged Man, to catch her worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. The plush skin drawn into her mouth, colored dark from lipstick, a gold glint just below. Dark cheeks were flushed, the faint dusting of freckles more pronounced, her tongue tracing over the now ever so slightly swollen skin of her lips. It wasn’t hard to imagine what those lips looked like, swollen and raw from kissing or biting or being wrapped around a thick, dwarven- 

Woah! Andraste’s tits, he was in over his head. Maybe they both needed to get doused with some cold sea water. And quickly. He drowned the sudden fire in his stomach with piss-poor ale, but his eyes were drawn to Bela like a moth to a flame; batting over to her and glancing away before she noticed, thankful for the distraction of the pretty barmaid, elbows on the counter, that Isabela was eying so ravenously. 

How anyone managed to look away, Varric wasn’t sure; she’d been positively lecherous all day, and now, sitting in the flickering firelight of The Hanged Man… she looked like sin incarnate. Tits pressed up against her tunic, white fabric ever so slightly damp from the day’s heat, faint outline of nipples at attention visible to a keen eye like his. He felt his mouth grow wetter as his mind imagined what flesh and the gold ring through her nipples would taste like under his tongue-

“Do you always look at me like that, Varric, or just when you think I’m not looking?”

“Look at you like what, Rivaini?”

“Like I’m magister’s safe and your fingers are just itching to figure out how I come undone, sweet thing.”

“With the way you’ve been acting, seems like it wouldn’t take much more than a stiff breeze to undo you.”

Bela laughed, long and hard. “You’ve become quite surly in your old age. Though while discussing stiffening and coming undone…. Looks like I’m not the only one struggling.” A slow, positively wicked look trailed down his body to his lap. Leave it to damned Isabela to notice that. Shit. Shit.

“Struggling Rivaini? Not me. I’m just enjoying the view.” And what a view it was, now that he’d inadvertently caught her attention; she probably didn’t even know how good she looked right now, the subtle stretch of her neck, head tilted to one side like a cat eyeing a canary. He saw that look, often, directed at Fenris, or Hawke, or even Merrill sometimes. It was the first time she’d looked at him that way; well. For more than a moment or two of jest. Like she might very well swallow him whole. 

His throat got sympathetically dry at the idea of ‘she’ and ‘swallowing’ and ‘him’. 

“No, no, no. You’ve got the wrong idea entirely, Rivaini.”

“Oh do I? Seems to me… I’ve got an itch to scratch… and you’ve got half a mind to scratch it, Varric…”

He wasn’t sure how she’d managed to crawl across the bench, skillful that, but she was walking her damned dexterous fingers up one of his thighs as she slid her knee between his, straddling his lap. Varric growled an expletive under his breath; they’d been friends for years and while they’d flirted, who didn’t Bela flirt with after all, he’d certainly never thought it would get physical for them. He didn’t care much for human women, in general, particularly not tawdry ones… and Isabela had a thing for elves, pretty lean things you could snap like a twig. And beyond that, it was just too damned strange. They’d known each other for near ten years. If sex was going to happen, they’d have known, and they’d have done it years and years ago.

But whatever line of argument his mind provided, Bela’s lecherous gaze was positively relentless. She lifted her chest, and his face was in line with her prominent, magnificent rack. “Andraste’s tits.” He cussed, the scent of skin and cinnamon and rum overwhelming from here, a woman’s body so close to his making the little dwarf in his breeches more excited than a chantry boy in a brothel. “For the love of… Fine. But if we do this, we do it right.” He had to literally catch her nimble wrist, fingers on their way towards the buttons of his shirt. “And I mean upstairs, Rivaini.”

He still felt a button give way, and glanced down to find her other hand had already begun the work while he’d been distracted, fingers sliding off the buttons like they were nothing. His shirt was nearly completely open, truthfully it hadn’t been done up much to begin with, by the time he’d captured that wrist. It seemed to be the wrong play, however, since that just led the Rivaini to rocking her hips against his, golden eyes fixated. “Ohh, are we going to play rough, Varric?” She purred, and suddenly the way she said his name was strictly too much for even a patient dwarf to handle. He pushed her back onto the bench a little, enough that he could stand. One thick arm wrapped around her waist and with a motion he’d hoisted the pirate over his shoulder. She weighed more than he’d expected, truly, and he grunted from the exertion… but it was worth it for the way her legs kicked and she let out a little squeal of amusement and dismay. 

“Varric, put me down… put me down!”

But he didn’t, not until he’d kicked open the door to his bedroom and thrown her down to perch on the nearest table. He allowed himself the luxury of enjoying the way her tits bounced when she sprawled back. Oh, that… that deserved a repeat performance. She sprawled, happily, a little drunkenly, stretching her hands against the table, feeling the grain of the wood beneath her fingers. Their eyes met and her’s were positively molten gold. He threw his coat off roughly before finding his way to the table between her thighs.

He didn’t know who’d started the kiss, but suddenly they were kissing; rough and hard and good, lip and tongue and teeth. She’d stolen off his shirt without so much as a by-your-leave, and her cinnamon fingers were running through his luxurious chest hair, same way she’d touched the table moments ago. Bela liked to try everything, to feel everything. It was her strongest damned trait, and made her great to write about though, and his cock gave a happy twitch at the thought, now he’d be able to add this… all of this… to Hard in Hightown as well. If he wanted to share.

He nuzzled down between those full, impressive breasts and doubted he’d want to. 

His arms crushed around her waist, holding her hard against his chest, and she could feel every inch of his solid body against hers; the strength of his arms, the lines of his chest. Dwarves, more rock than flesh, when they swung about a crossbow the way he did. The thought made her cunt throb sympathetically. 

She slid down a little on the table, wanting to wrap her legs around the muscular rogue between her thighs, when a hand caught the back of her neck and dragged her into another kiss. His stubble roughed against her cheek, tongue slick and hot, so very hot, against hers. The ale carried on his tongue, and the taste of it in another’s mouth had never failed to get her bothered. She’d so rarely kissed someone sober that she couldn’t quite remember what that tasted like, to be honest. Varric, on the other hand, was strategizing the best way to get the Rivaini out of her bodice… he’d spent time enough wondering. 

Coarse fingers undid her laces as he felt her tongue press into his mouth; demanding, claiming; he resisted the urge to chuckle. Impatient as always; he grazed his teeth against her tongue and began to pull back; when she ducked after him, he caught her jeweled throat with one skillful hand. 

“Ah ah ah, Rivaini. A wise dwarf always inspects the goods before he buys.”

Bela laughed, low, sinful, leaning back against the table top, arms pulled away from her chest. Varric groaned knowingly as she put herself on display for him like wares on a merchant’s table; he wasn’t sure why he’d expected any less. It was a cheap trick, but damn it worked; he felt his mouth go dry, cock strain against his breeches as he watched the full swell of her breasts strain against the bodice. Come on, Varric, you’ve got this. Had to wonder, though, if just the promise of getting his mouth around one of those dark nipples was enough to get him hot and bothered… if he hadn’t wanted this longer than he’d cared to admit.

“Well go on then, Varric. Inspect. And I expect you to be thorough… after all, you have exacting standards.” 

That was all the encouragement he needed, reaching for the tie at the top of her bodice, slowly undoing the knot there and then drawing his finger down the center of the laces. They came undone nearly of their own accord, breasts longing to be freed from confinement. Each inch of fresh cleavage exposed, excruciatingly slowly. The moment seemed to last a lifetime before he’d gotten it undone enough that Bela reached up, sliding the fabric off one bare shoulder; her golden eyes on him, it was positively coy, and he cursed her doubly for moving slow when he wanted to go fast, and rushing when he wanted to take it slow. 

“Rivaini…”

His warning tone made her smirk all the more, wetting her dark lips with a pink tongue as she pulled the tunic off her shoulders, exposing her body inch by torturous inch. “And here I thought you wanted to savor it…”

“Savor, Rivaini, not die of old age.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written as part of a series of Isabela sleeps with every character drabbles. 
> 
> It's not finished, but I like where it ends. I might write the rest eventually!


End file.
